


Seal of Approval

by MrsRidcully



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Bad Mermen, Bear Shifter Chris Argent, Chris cooks, Fluff and Humor, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Peter plays the violin, Selkie Stiles Stilinski, Selkie language, Stetopher Week 2019, alpha mates, comfort and eventual smut, miscommunications
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-05 23:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: A wolf and a Bear meet a Selkie and things just get stranger from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This happened rather quickly and mostly in thanks to a strange dream and too much Glayva one night.  
This fic would be a mess of missed full stops and flyaway commas if not for Bunnywest <3  
This is only a short wip but I hope you all enjoy <3
> 
> *Selkie language is a mix between Mondoshawan (fifth Element) Ewok and my own nonsense words.

The silver and black wolf made its way slowly out of the heavy wooded forest, out onto the sand, its large paws moving silently as he meandered out onto the lonely stretch of coast. Behind him the trees parted as a large Kodiak bear lumbered out behind the wolf sniffing the air in great gusts. The wolf darted back to sniff and playfully bark at the bear who grumbled in return, both making their way down to the water.

Gulls and terns flew above their heads cawing and chastising the pair as they romped on the edge of the seafoam. The air was icy and the water cold, but thick fur kept them warm against the elements.

They ran and splashed, enjoying the brief respite in the stormy weather, until the bear was distracted by the scent of fish. Letting out a happy grumble the bear wandered up the beach, the wolf’s tongue lolling as if he were laughing at his ursine companion.

Ahead lay large logs washed up in last night’s storm. The beach was always littered with them, weathered skilled hands could form these lumps of timber into delightful carvings that the summer tourists would snatch up for a ridiculous amount.

The wolf watched as the bear disappeared behind a particularly large log, and heard a surprised huff and a grunt. Coming around the log the wolf saw what had cause the bear’s shock. A young male was sprawled unconscious in the sand. Under the dusting of sand on the young man's skin the wolf could see a constellation of small moles. His skin was pale, dark hair caught back in a loose braid. The unconscious man's head was turned to one side and the wolf could see six pierced loops running up the man's ear. Wolf could also see a nasty gash on the man's head and large bruises on his back and leg. He wondered if the young man had been caught in last night's storm.

Wolf felt the air thicken and a soft pop in his ears. He looked over to Bear who was now man shaped. Wolf couldn’t help but make an appreciative sound at the sight of the golden naked flesh, the dark tattoo that snaked around one of the man's arms and stretched down the man's torso and thigh. Wolf gave in to the urge to press a cold nose to the human’s bare crotch and sniff loudly.

“Pervert”, the man chuckled fondly but then dropped his eyes down to the unconscious young man. “What should we do with him, Peter?”

Peter let out a huff and nudged at the body, trusting Chris understood. It was obvious they should take the poor thing home and treat his wounds; it was too late in the day and the weather too unpredictable to risk getting the boy to town.

Chris nodded and bent down, gently picking up the unconscious stranger. Peter noted that the stranger would be as tall as Chris, maybe even a little taller standing, and that he had long lean lines like a distance runner.

Before they turned to leave Peter spied something poking out from a hole dug beside the large log. He gently nosed pebbles and sand aside to stare at the seal skin in front of him. The rosettes and silvery hues of the skin were beautiful. It was a leopard seal skin; Peter was sure of it. Peter barked to get Chris attention and nosed the skin. Its smell was surprisingly pleasant, a mix of the ocean and spices.

Looking over, Chris gave Peter a nod and a smile. “That kind of explains what he was doing out here.” He moved the boy about in his arms gently, his cargo letting out a soft pained moan. “Bring it, Peter. We don’t want him panicking when he wakes thinking we’ve stolen his skin. I don’t know much about selkies, but I suppose we’re about to learn.”

Peter gently picked up the precious skin and followed Chris back into the forest. Their cabin lay a few miles inland but luckily, they had chosen to drive down to the shore. The jeep was parked not far into the woods on the side of an overgrown fire track.

As they got closer to the jeep Peter shifted, slowly returning to his human skin. It always was a melancholy moment, shedding one skin to don another. He adored his wolf, loved the mental and physical freedom his shift gave him, to be nothing but his wolf, and he knew Christopher felt the same when he let the Bear take over and they could just exist for a while, not Peter and Chris, just Wolf and Bear.

But he also loved being able to hold his husband, to talk and cuddle with his nieces and nephew. They had responsibilities to the people of Bear Island and they took them seriously - one could not be Mayor of Elfin Cove while in wolfskin.

Peter quickly opened the back of the jeep and grabbed spare blankets and threw them along the back seat, making a warm cozy nest for their visitor. After Chris had laid the young man down, Peter placed the seal skin alongside him, certain the boy would be grateful for its closeness when he woke.

“There hasn’t been a Selkie pod this close to the islands in decades, what was one of them doing so close to shore?” Peter ruminated out loud as he slipped on his jeans. Chris shook his head while handing Peter a dark green henley.

“I’ve no idea. We can ask him when he wakes.” Chris brushed Peter’s hair back from his eyes, smiling softly while he did it. “Did you catch his scent?”

Peter hummed at the contact from his mate “I did. It was something special.”

“Let's get him home and check over his wounds, we can call Deaton if anything looks like we can’t handle it.” Chris spoke quietly, looking at the boy asleep in the car.

“That oaf? I would rather speak to a feral wendigo, thank you very much.” Peter hated the town’s druid for various reasons, but mostly he just didn’t trust the man. He had fought to keep Chris and Peter apart, and stirred up the animosity between the Wolf and Bear clans to fever pitch. Peter was almost certain the man's meddling had been the reason for the fire that claimed over half of Peters pack, and the follow-on war had decimated what was left of the Wolf and Bear clans. Only Peter and Chris, with their Romeo and Juliet love story, had been able to bring about an end to the war and restore peace and relative harmony to their island community.

Now they had an unconscious Selkie in the back of their jeep, and no idea what to do. “We could call Derek?” Chris suggested and had to snort at the shocked look on Peters face.

“What the hell would my dear nephew know about selkies? Gods, he has enough problems with werewolf lore and he’s a born wolf!” Peter climbed into the passenger's seat and waited for Chris to get in. He glanced over his shoulder at their unconscious guest. “He looks rather sweet.”

Chris sighed as he started the engine. “No, Peter.”

Peter turned and glared at his husband “No, Peter what?”

“I love you to death and would give you anything, but no, we can’t keep him.” Chris smirked when Peter chose to answer by poking his tongue out.

“Spoilsport.”

“That’s not what you called me last night.” Chris yelped when Peter pinched him. “No pinching the driver.” He swatted at Peter before skillfully changing the subject. “I have some old books on Selkies. Ill dig them out and see if they’re any help.”

Peter was still pouting a little, but it was hard to stay mad at his husband for long, especially when Chris gave him a pleading look. Damn bears and their heart eyes.

Peter was idly watching the trees go past when he was startled enough to partially shift, and Chris nearly drove the jeep into the willow that marked the start of their driveway at a blood curdling scream from the back seat.

Chris jumped on the brakes, the jeep skidded to a stop mere inches from their willow, and an angry squirrel chittered at them from the branches.

“Well, our guest has woken up,” Peter quipped, turning slowly to face the terrified young man on the back seat. Holding his hands up to show he was no threat, Peter looked at the young man. Bright eyes peered back at him, challenging him. Peter was always a good judge of these things and he’d bet there was a quick brain behind those rather lovely honey colored eyes.

“Hello my friend, I’m Peter and this is Chris, we found you unconscious on the beach." Peter looked over at Chris, who was staring slightly bemused at the young man.

Chris spoke softly, and Peter watched the young selkie’s eyes narrow. “We want to help you. You were injured and unconscious, your leg is pretty banged up.” Chris pointed down to the bruised and swollen leg of the selkie. The young man tilted his head and gave both Peter and Chris an appraising look. Under all those bruise's and messy hair he really was quite adorable, Peter thought to himself. Chris let out a snort, guessing Peter’s line of thought.

Pointing to his chest the young selkie spoke it was soft and husky and almost musical_ "Apipoulai.”_ The words that followed the first were almost garbled and Peter and Chris found it hard to decipher them. The selkie let out an amused huff and spoke slowly. “Stiles." He nodded when both Peter and Chris repeated the name, and gave them a toothy grin when they got it right.

Stiles settled back into the seat and pulled the blanket around himself, but he let out a soft sound of surprise when Chris put the jeep into reverse and pulled away from the tree.

Peter smiled softly at the look of wonder on the young Selkies face as they drove towards the cabin. _“Melaloy-re takhtad asountimon de shawan Metalkcta ligurat!”_

“I have no idea what you are saying lovely boy, but you sound happy." Peter laughed in delight as the young Selkie rambled on.

By the time the cabin was in sight, Stiles had lapsed into silence and Peter could sense waves of pain and distress coming off the young man. Chris pulled up close to the front porch. Getting out, he went around to the passenger's side door. Opening it, he leant in to pick Stiles up, but his arm was slapped by the irate boy._ "Akta gamat!"_ he hissed out, shuffling backwards awkwardly.

“Little one we don’t mean you any harm, but with that leg it would be easier for me to carry you.” Chris spoke softly and Stiles may not have understood the words, but Peter got the feeling he understood the intent when he slid forward and let Chris lift him out.

Peter walked ahead, opening the door. Chris came in bearing the wide eyed Selkie.

“Put him on the couch, I’ll get out the medical kit.” Peter couldn’t help but gently ruffle the young selkie’s hair “We’re going to tend those wounds, sweetheart.”

Stiles made a soft sound of assent, leaning briefly into Peters touch. Peter didn’t understand why he was feeling such a profound need to protect this young creature but he did, and by the look on Christopher's face he did too.

Peter went to the downstairs bathroom and rifled through the cabinet. They seldom needed the first aid kit, it really only came out when the human members of their little pack came to visit. Rough-housing with born wolves and bears tended to leave bruises and cuts, and often the younger members forgot to keep their claws to themselves.

He found the case and grabbed a soft blanket from the linen press as he walked past. Moving into the sitting room, he saw Chris had already got the fire started. The room was a warm haven against the cold outside, the storm having returned not long after they had gotten home. The sound of the rain pattering on the windows was oddly soothing.

Chris had dug out one of his old plaid shirts and Stiles now sat on the old worn sofa wrapped in soft plaid. Chris was a solid man so the shirt hung loose on Stiles, his long legs stretched out on the sofa as he lay dozing.

Peter took a moment to just look at the young man. In human years Peter would guess the Selkie would be close to twenty. There was an air of innocence about him, but his eyes held a deep knowledge. What things had this young selkie seen and experienced? Peter’s mother had often told tales of a time early in the community's history when the selkie pods were regular visitors to Bear Island.

“Stiles, wake up little one.”

Stiles snorted and rolled over, muttering softly,_ “Diasmk ta-appa"_

Peter smiled and sat down on the wingback chair close to the sofa. He could hear Chris moving around in the kitchen and from the smells wafting through the air Peter could guess he had reheated some of the clam chowder they had for lunch.

Chris came out of the kitchen bearing a loaded tray full of steaming bowls and crusty rolls. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he set the tray down on the coffee table,

“Thought our guest would like some food, but he seems out for the count at the moment.” Stiles let out a soft snort and rolled over. Peter couldn’t help but glance at the cute little butt that peeked out from under the over large shirt,

“Gods you're shameless at times, Peter.” Chris rumbled fondly.

Peter flicked his eyes back to the exposed bottom then back to Chris. “As if you didn’t notice.”

“Well yeah, but I am not as obvious about it.” Chris grinned, ducking a thrown cushion.

Chris grabbed two bowls and handed one to Peter, then sat on the ground resting against Peter’s legs. Peter leaned forward and brushed a kiss into Chris hair “My thoughtful bear.”

Chris looked over to the sleeping boy. “So what are we going to do about our little friend? You know seals aren't particularly fond of bears and wolves, right?”

“Oh, hush. We’re not going to eat the poor thing.” Peter waggled his eyebrows, causing Chris to chuckle softly. “But yes, I get the point you’re making. I think it would be best if he stayed with us for the time being, between you and I we have enough connections that we can find out what we can do to help him.”

Peter noticed that Stiles’s eyes were open and watching them intently. Peter smiled in what he hoped was a gentle way and pointed to the bowl of soup and bread. “Clam chowder and sourdough rolls, made fresh today. Its very good, Chris made it.” Peter dipped a bit of his roll into the chowder and took a bite. Chris copied Peter while Stiles watched, interested, and then looked at the steaming bowl on the table. Chris got up slowly, leaving his bowl on the floor. He reached over and grabbed a bowl to pass to Stiles, showing him the spoon and miming taking a mouthful of soup. ”Food. Eat”

Stiles sat up and took the bowl, sniffing at it. Peter was amused when the boy's eyes grew wide and he gave a bright grin. Before either man could stop him, Stiles took a huge gulp from the bowl.

“No, Stiles! Hot!“ But it was too late. Stiles let out a yelp and fanned his mouth, muttering._ “Atak Atak neham ehda,”_ he growled softly at the bowl.

“I tried to warn you.” Peter shook his head and got up to find a cloth. When he came back Chris was breaking off pieces of roll and feeding them to Stiles who chewed them slowly, making happy huffing sounds. Peter showed Stiles the cloth, then helped wipe the soup off his face and hands.

Holding the bread out Stiles looked at Peter and Chris, rubbing his belly and smiling. _“Tsouk tsouk.”_ He made grabby hands for the rest of the roll.

“Well, I think the sourdough is a winner.” Peter pinched a piece of Chris’s roll, ignoring the growl from Chris. They ate in companionable silence, Peter and Chris moving to sit on the floor by the sofa, Peter blowing on the soup before letting Stiles take a sip. Hesitant at firs,t he took a tentative bite of the offending liquid and smiled, smacking his rather lush lips together he patted his belly again _“Tsouk, imanah.”_

“I think Tsouk means good, he used it when he had the rolls.” Peter held up a roll “Imanah?” Stiles nodded excitedly, and gave the same response when Peter held up the bowl of soup. “Imanah is food, I think.” Peter couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. Unraveling this linguistic puzzle would be a challenge, but fun.

“Well if anyone can learn the language you can. I did marry the smartest man on Bear Island after all, or so you keep telling me.” Chris ducked a playful punch from Peter.

Peter and Chris both smelt the subtle change in Stiles scent. The sweet spicy undertones were tinged with a sour note, and Peter could smell the young man's rising distress.

“I really think we need to clean those wounds and dress them.” Peter pointed at Stiles’s leg and got out the first aid kit. Stiles looked at it warily but didn’t resist as Peter began to carefully to clean the wound. Chris ran a comforting hand through Stiles’s hair, rumbling softly.

Stiles let out a hiss as Peter cleaned a particularly deep gash on his thigh. On closer examination, what he’d thought were cuts caused by Stiles being caught in the storm looked more like claw marks.

Peter lifted his eyes and met Chris’s. “Something or someone attacked this sweet boy.” Peter was shocked by the wave of anger that swept through him at the thought that something could attack someone as sweet as Stiles

“Peter, your eyes,” Chris quietly scolded. In his outrage Peter must have let his control slip, letting the Alpha red bleed through in his eyes. He expected Stiles to be terrified or angry, or at least worried, but when he looked into the soft honey eyes all he saw was interest. Stiles reached out a hand and touched Peter’s brow.

“I am Alpha of the Hale Pack, and guardian of Bear Island’s Wolf clans.” Peter spoke slowly, trusting that Stiles would at least understand the importance of the words.

Stiles smiled and pointed at Peter and then at Chris._ “Isperobera khrasma, Isperobera khrasma.”_ Stiles screwed his face up in thought. “Peeta Al-fa, Chis Alfa?”

Chris and Peter both looked at each other in shock. As Peter had guessed, Stiles had a quick mind. “Yes. smart boy. We are Alphas. Chris is my mate, we are Alpha Mates.”

“Maaates,” Stiles mimicked, then giggled and made a kissing face.

Chris chuckled and leant over to kiss Peter on the cheek. “You’re right Peter. He is adorable.”

Stiles looked at both men then moved his hand, pointing. “Nealla dindo..” he asked, and then made a face to mimic teeth and claws.

“I think he wants us to show him.” Chris looked at Stiles. “Is that what you want?” Stiles nodded his head so fast Peter was afraid he would give himself whiplash.

Peter nodded and saw Chris eyes sparkling with amusement “OK, little one.”

Peter and Chris let the Beta shift take over gradually enjoying the look of shocked wonder on Stiles’s face. Stiles showed no fear or hesitation reaching out to touch both men's faces. Then he let out a hooting laugh and wiggled happily on the sofa until his wound stopped him, then he lay back down, happily chattering. _“Topometimbackta selovoy! Itoumalena palela fer kiko hammas statoncro bom sonoy dot pan-adindoskal.. nealla dindo.._(Holy Whale shit, my day kind of started off bad, stupid mermen, but man, I got rescued by the two hottest shifters ever. Oh, I’ve got to tell Scotty. That’s if I can ever go home.”)

Peter and Chris noticed when Stiles’s scent went from joyful to sad, and saw tears track down his face. Without thinking Peter sat on the couch and pulled Stiles into his arms. “Oh little one, what's wrong?”

Stiles ran his hands up and down his arms “Doru ima bosk,” he whispered and started crying harder.

Chris suddenly jumped up from where he sat on the floor and ran outside. Peter shook his head but then gaped when Chris ran back inside, wet from the rain but carrying the skin they had left in the car.

Peter had to hold back a laugh at the big stupid grin Chris had on his face as he held out the skin to Stiles. “Is this what you were worried about, sweetheart?” Chris placed the treasured skin on Stiles’s lap, and the smile the young man gave them in return was stunning. In a show of youthful exuberance and joy, Stiles reached up and pulled Chris’s face towards him and rubbed noses, then did the same to Peter. Then he relaxed into Peter’s hold, crooning softly at the seal skin.

Stiles showed no inclination of wanting to get off Peter’s lap, he just snuggled deeper, so Chris settled alongside them, draping his arm over Peter’s shoulder and squeezing softly. Chris started to talk, telling stories of his and Peters childhood. They were unsure if Stiles understood, but he seemed to enjoy the soft rumble of Chris’s voice and his soft honey eyes were wide, apparently captivated.

This was not how Peter had imagined his day going, but he was infinitely pleased with how it had turned out. They would find a way to help Stiles return home. The thought already made Peters heart ache a little, but he pushed that aside. He and Chris had a job to do, to help and protect the sweet selkie named Stiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait but its here, this may end up more than three Chapters :) This has a little angst and a little humour ejoy my lovelies.  
Thank you again @Bunnywest for Ninja comma and full stop skills.

Peter woke up feeling rather warm. Squinting to try and cut the brightness of the light spilling in through the front room windows, he took a moment to remember where he was. He lay in a tangle of limbs on the large sofa. The lumpy pillow was in fact, Chris’s chest, and the warm weight snuggled on top of him was their new selkie friend. 

Opening his eyes, he let out a manly squeak. Bright honey eyes were right in front of his. “Yuckta hi!” Stiles piped up, smiling. 

A snort behind him told him Chris was waking up as well. 

“Good morning, Stiles.” Peter was unsure what to do - he had a very attractive half naked selkie laying on top of him with what Peter could only assume was impressive morning wood digging into his thigh. “_ Not looking, not looking,’’ _ Peter muttered to himself as he tried to extract himself from the pile. 

“I'm going to have a cold shower. Chris, please find Stiles some pants, if only for the sake of my sanity.” Peter escaped and dashed upstairs to the bathroom. 

000 

“Sihdah ronto?” Stiles asked, cocking his head and smiling. 

Chris scratched his beard, trying not to snigger at the sight of his husband hightailing it up the stairs. “Um I think you broke him. But that’s ok, I like to do it to him myself from time to time,” Chris chuckled, and led Stiles into the kitchen. 

Stiles perched on one of the kitchen chairs, watching Chris work. He started to make batter for blueberry pancakes and Stiles watched avidly. “Chris umha Da?” Stiles pointed to the bowl of batter. 

“This is the pancake batter, going to heat up the pan and make us a pile of pancakes,” Chris answered. 

Stiles had sat on the chair backwards, legs straddling the chair and chin resting on the back, watching as Chris moved about the kitchen. Chris watched the selkie out of the corner of his eye as he greased the pan, and he had to agree with Peter - the boy really was adorable. Those long, tanned legs were not helping with Chris’s efforts to not burn the pancakes. 

“So, either we are going to have to learn to speak selkie, or teach you English. I’m sure Peter has some English books stored away in his library,” Chris mused aloud. 

“Selkie.” Stiles nodded and pointed to his chest. 

Chris nodded back, plating up the first pancake. Stiles went to snatch it but Chris shook his head, “No, hot. Wait.” 

Stiles drew his hand back and pouted slightly. Oh boy, he and Peter made a great pair - the power of the pout was strong in those two. Chris rummaged in the fridge, finding butter and juice and bringing them back to the table just as Peter came in freshly washed and slightly less flustered. 

“Feel better, babe?” Chris wrapped a free arm around Peter’s waist and pulled him in for a slow kiss. He grinned into the kiss when he felt Peter’s hands creep under his shirt. 

“Peter, we have and audience.” Stiles was staring at the two of them in rapt attention, his lips slightly parted and his eyes slightly unfocused. 

Realizing he was being watched, Stiles blushed and then laughed, “Wow.” 

“Oh, I don’t think Stiles minded at all, Christopher.” Peter nuzzled at Chris’s neck. Peter always knew Chris’s vulnerable spots, and was not ashamed to use them to get his own way. 

“Behave, Peter.” Chris tried to sound annoyed but really, how could he be, especially when Peter was nibbling on his ear the way he currently was? Thankfully Peter seemed to have had enough. He settled down on a chair next to Stiles, and started plating up some of the cooler pancakes. 

Stiles was quivering with excitement as he watched and sniffed delicately when Peter passed him the maple syrup. Stiles’s face lit up once he smelt the sweet sticky syrup. Luckily Peter was on the ball, and grabbed the bottle before Stiles started to drink it. 

“No sweetheart, it goes on the pancakes.” Peter poured a generous amount on the pancakes in front of Stiles. Deft hands swooped in and Stiles started devouring the food. All they could do was watch as the young selkie ate with gusto and proceeded to cover himself, and everything else, in syrup. Peter looked horrified. “Christopher I am never going to complain about your table manners ever again.” 

Chris placed more of the warm pancakes on the platter. Stiles snatched them up quickly, pausing in his eating, pancake crumbs stuck around his mouth, to look at Chris and Peter. “Danko.” 

Chris joined them at the table, filling a glass of juice for Stiles and topping up his and Peter’s coffee cups. “So, I was thinking about going back down to the beach today.” 

“You want to have a look around see if there is anything to help us with Stiles?” Peter asked, taking a sip of the strong coffee. 

“Yeah, thought it would be worth a try, plus there were some driftwood pieces that caught my eye.” Chris smiled around his mug. 

“Ohh, planning on a new piece Chris?” 

“Maybe, and before you ask, no I won't tell you till it's done; you know the rules. I don’t bug you about your music till you're ready for me to hear it, and the same goes for my carvings.” 

Stiles watched the back and forth with wide eyes “Beech?” 

Peter got up and grabbed a photo hanging on the wall. It was a picture of the cove taken by Chris years ago. The cove had been bathed in spray, storm waves smashing onto the sand, and Chris had caught the power and raw nature in his photo. 

Showing Stiles the photo, he spoke slowly. “Beach. We call it Elfin Cove.” 

Stiles took a sip of the juice, making a face at the picture.”Beach, Umani.” 

“Would you like to go for a trip down to the beach Stiles?” Peter asked. 

Stiles stood excitedly, knocking things over in his rush. “Ita.” 

“Okay but hold on, you're not going out like that. I want to check on your wounds.” Peter pointed to Stiles’s leg. “You need a clean shirt, and for modesty's sake, some pants might be called for.” 

Stiles shrugged and sniffed at the shirt and then pulled the offending garment off, standing happily naked in the middle of the kitchen. 

Chris laughed long and loud as Peter thumped his head onto the kitchen table. “This boy is going to kill me.” 

Chris placed a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Yeah, but it’s a hell of a view.” 

“Not helping, Christopher.” Peter moaned into his folded arms, “Why didn’t we find a horribly unattractive wendigo, or at least a middle-aged obese Merman? But nooo, we had to find sunshine and light personified in 6 feet of delectable selkie.” Peter moaned again. 

Stiles walked up and laid a hand on Peters shoulder, brows creased in concern. ”Peeter bada?” 

Chris felt a burst of warmth in his chest for the young man. “No sweetheart, he’s ok. He’s just being a melodramatic ass.” 

Stiles snorted. “Peeter Asss.” 

“OK Stiles, I think we have tormented Peter enough this morning. Why don’t we check that wound and find you those clean clothes.” Chris didn’t want to admit it, but Peter was right. A naked selkie in the house was far too distracting. 

0o0 

Checking Stiles’s wounds proved easy. Selkie healing, while not as fast as a werewolf’s, still seemed faster than human, and Stiles’s wounds were already scabbing and healing. Peter still wanted to find out what had caused them. If something was out there attacking selkies, Peter wanted to find it and stop it. 

Getting Stiles in clothing was another matter entirely. He wiggled and pouted and then threw the freshly washed shirt and trackpants aside, scowling, wrinkling his nose and muttering darkly. In frustration, Peter threw one of his dirty henleys towards the boy. Stiles sniffed it, buried his face in the soft maroon material, then happily let Peter help him put it on. They went through the same with the pants, until finally Stiles accepted a pair of Chris’s worn sweatpants. 

Chris gave Peter a quizzical look when they came downstairs. Stiles was dressed in a mix of his and Peter’s clothes, all pulled from the wash hamper. 

“He either hates the smell of the laundry powder or prefers our scent,” Peter shrugged, directing Stiles to sit on the couch. Peter looked over to where Chris was getting things out from the large closet under the stairs. “Your fishing rod, really?” 

“Well, I thought Stiles might like some fresh caught salmon for dinner,” Chris shrugged sheepishly. 

Peter shook his head and laughed, looking at Stiles. “Bears and fish.” 

Rolling his eyes, Stiles sniggered. He might not be sure what was going on but Peter guessed he was finding the two of them funny. Chris looked at Peter with an offended expression. “Not just any fish Peter, _ salmon.” _

Peter helped Stiles on with socks, but the boy glared when Peter brought out sneakers and shook his head, even flashing sharp fangs when Peter tried to put the offending shoes on him. 

“No,” Stiles said quite firmly, and Peter smirked. _ Seems he is picking up human speech well enough, _ Peter thought to himself. “Well if your feet get cold and wet, don’t grumble to me.” 

Peter got up and went to the back study and came back holding his violin case. “The beach always inspires me, and the weather looks clear enough. We can make a day of it.” 

“Pic-a-nic," Chris said in a perfect Yogi bear impression, giving Peter his best heart eyes. 

“Stiles, come with me. It seems Yogi wants a picnic.” 

“Yogi?” Stiles asked, frowning. 

“It's nicer than saying idiot bear. Its winter, and all the man wants is to eat, sleep, and fu-” Stiles was listening intently and Peter caught himself in time, blushing. “Have fun,” Peter amended, somewhat lamely. 

“You know Peter, you’re treating Stiles like an innocent baby. I get the feeling you’re way off base with that assumption,” Chris remarked, helping pack the hamper. 

Peter slapped a hand to his chest and then pulled Stiles in to a hug. “Hush you, I will not hear such slander spoken.” 

Stiles grinned at the two of them. “Idiots.” 

“I think Stiles knows more than he lets on.” Chris’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he carried out the basket. 

Peter put a gentle hand under Stiles’s jaw and smiled. “I think you do too, sweetheart. And soon you're going to trust us enough to tell us your story.” 

Stiles’s lips quirked in a soft smile, but he said nothing, just leaned in and brushed his nose against Peter’s then turned to follow Chris. 

OOOO 

They got to the secluded cove a little after eleven, the morning mist having burnt away and the sky a bright blue. The air was crisp, and to Peter’s refined nose it smelt like snow was on the way, but for now the beach was clear and sunny. 

Peter could feel Stiles’s excitement building up as they approached the water. The cool ocean breeze ruffled at Stiles’s unbound hair, his cheeks rosy. Peter shared a look with Chris, who seemed just as spellbound by the selkie as Peter was. 

Peter stepped back, letting Stiles walk ahead, watching as the young man skipped and danced down to the water's edge. Chris came up and linked his fingers through Peter’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You OK? You seem thoughtful.” 

Peter looked to where Stiles was walking along the water's edge. The bottom edges of the overlong track pants were already soaked but Stiles didn’t seem to notice. He seemed almost meditative, calm. 

“You're going to think I’m insane, but I feel like we were supposed to find Stiles, that he belongs...with us.” Peter knew he sounded crazy, but once the words were out, he could not take them back. 

Chris pulled Peter into his arms and pressed soft kisses to his hair. “No baby, you're not insane. I feel it too. But we have to remember that Stiles is not a thing for us to keep. If and when he is ready to leave, we have to accept that.” 

“How can we feel so strongly for someone we have only known less than a day? It’s like some sort of fairy tale, a sweet selkie washed up and found by handsome princes,” Peter mused, smiling as Stiles chased gulls from the water's edge, sending them flying like a white and grey cloud. 

“Princes sounds better than a bossy Mayor and his gold-digging sculptor husband.” Chris whispered into Peter’s hair. 

“I'm not bossy, I just know what I want. And Talia was a spiteful bitch to call you that, she was just annoyed I got you first.” 

Chris’s soft chuckle blew warm air against Peter’s neck. “Let's just see how things go, and if Stiles returns home to his pod we have to accept it. He’s a free spirit. He belongs out there,” Chris murmured. 

“I know... I know.” Peter huffed out a sigh and hugged Chris to him. 

Chris pulled back, his brilliant blue eyes hopeful “Let's not mourn his loss yet, baby.” 

He and Peter walked back to where a large maroon picnic blanket was spread out. “How about we have this picnic, then I have a fish to catch.” Chris grinned happily. Peter knew that for Chris, fishing was a form of meditation. At the end of the day, he did not care how many fish he caught, but sitting out on the rocks watching the ebb and flow of the waves seemed to calm something in him. 

Peter let out an amused huff. “Already day dreaming about fishing I see. Stiles! Come up here and eat, sweetheart.” 

Stiles ran up the beach and flopped happily on the blanket between the two men, taking the offered cup of hot cocoa and blowing on it as Peter had shown him. Cheeks ruddy from the cold air and eyes sparkling, Stiles looked relaxed and happy. Chris looked at the two of then sitting together, and he felt the rightness of it. 

“Hey Yogi, are you off in your head again?” Peter leaned over, handing Chris a sandwich. 

Chris grabbed Peter by the shirt as he leant in and rubbed his bearded cheek against Peter’s neck. “Just enjoying the company, Boo-Boo.” 

Chris grinned when Peter nipped his neck and pulled back. “That’s _ Alpha _ Boo-Boo to you, heathen,” Peter mock-scolded and pulled back, smiling at Stiles who smiled back as he watched them. 

0o0 

Stiles watched the two shifters and smiled to himself. They were just as funny and sexy as he had imagined them to be. Stiles had debated with himself when he woke up whether to tell them the truth, to tell them the whole sorry story, but that would mean admitting to not only understanding their language, but also admitting that this had not been some chance meeting. 

** Six Months earlier **

He had been floating lazily, waiting in the shallows for the pair to come out of the woods. He had, over the months, learnt their patterns. 

The first time he had seen the pair come onto the beach, he had hidden on a rocky outcrop watching, terrified by the great bear and wolf, but too caught up in their joyous romp through the surging waves to move. 

He’d watched when they had shifted into their human forms and his heart beat had sped up. Both men were naked, and the older one caught Stiles’s eye first. Long legs, thick muscular thighs, a broad chest covered in a light dusting of silver hair. Stiles’s gaze drifted up to Bear’s face, to light blue eyes that crinkled in the comers when he smiled, and how that smile made Stiles’s heart flutter. Wolf was no less alluring - a face so flawless that Stiles fought the urge to swim ashore and touch, thick powerful legs, and a neck that Stiles wanted to nibble and lick. He flushed deeply. Where had these feeling come from? 

Before the two could notice him, he silently slid off the rocks and swam back to his pod, his head spinning with thoughts of Wolf and Bear all the while. 

It was a month before the pod's migration brought him back to the secluded cove, his head still filled with memories of Wolf and Bear. With a promise to be safe, he left his father to swim to the cove in hopes that just maybe the two would appear again. 

He pulled himself up onto a rock close to the shore, and let the sun warm his dappled coat. He let his muscles warm under the sun’s rays and slowly shed his coat till he lay naked and panting, his seal skin laying in loose folds around him. 

Shifting was hard and it took Stiles a few moments to gather himself, then he quietly crept forward on the rocks, waiting to see if Wolf and Bear would make an appearance. 

He did not need to wait long before his sharp eyesight caught movement, moving silently the two emerged from the woods. As Wolf and Bear came onto the beach, Wolf pranced about in front of Bear, his large fluffy tail wagging happily. Stiles stifled a giggle when Wolf mock-lunged Bear and the large Bear gently swatted the wolf, squishing the wolf with a large paw, then starting to lick the struggling wolf. 

Wolf managed to wiggle out of Bear’s hold and prance around again, its fur stuck up at funny angles where Bear had licked him. 

Moving out further onto the sun warmed rocks, Stiles lay on his belly watching the two, avidly hoping they would shift to their human forms soon. 

Bear lumbered down to the shore, his golden coat ruffling in the sea breeze. Stiles could see the great bear’s muzzle was shot with silver hairs, but it did little to diminish the look of power the bear exuded. The wolf with his glowing red eyes held the same power, but Stiles did not fear them, did not fear what they would do to him if they discovered him. 

Wolf joined Bear on the water's edge and Stiles watched as both shifted into their human form. Again, his breath was taken away by the rugged beauty of both men. They embraced, and Stiles felt his cheeks heating as he watched their kiss go from soft and tender to hungry. Bear’s hands gripped Wolf possessively around the hips while he kissed and mouthed at the wolf’s neck. 

Wolf bared his throat to Bear’s mouth and Stiles felt his own pulse kick up, imagining what it would feel like to have those lips against his throat, to be held with such passion by those men. 

He felt the heat building up in his groin. He squirmed and wriggled against the rock, but the bubbling warmth still crept through his body_ . What were they doing _ _ ? _ He gaped as Bear carried Wolf out into the surf and the water brushed against Bear’s thighs. One of his strong arms was wrapped around Wolf’s waist, the other hand had disappeared between them. 

OH.

Another shot of arousal coursed through Stiles, oh, he ground his hips mindlessly into the hard rock below him. Wolf made a low sound, a cross between and laugh and a growl. His hips bucked at what Bear was doing. Stiles could hear the sound of Bear’s low voice, but not make out the words. Bear did something with his hand then, and Wolf threw his head back and shouted, then rested his head against Bear’s shoulder breathing heavily. 

Stiles wiggled and felt the sticky mess under him. He’d been so caught up in watching the pair he hadn’t realized he had come himself. Red with embarrassment, he wrapped his seal skin around him and rolled into the water to find his pod. He wistfully looked back, wishing he could go to them, but he was expected back. His father wanted Stiles to help him negotiate with the local Mer pack. If they were successful, the pod could settle here. That thought filled Stiles with hope - maybe he would get the chance to see Wolf and Bear again. 

0000 

Over the next few months, Stiles would swim to the cove every time they were close, hoping to catch a glimpse of Wolf and Bear. Sometimes fate smiled, and he would find the pair there. Often, throwing caution to the wind, he would swim closer to the shore just for a chance to catch a whiff of their scent or hear snippets of their conversations. 

This nearly backfired on him on several occasions. The first time, Wolf and Bear were in a heated discussion, voices raised and both gesturing wildly. Stiles had wanted to swim ashore and berate them both, tell them to stop it. The raised voices frightened Stiles, but he was more concerned with seeing this normally harmonious couple yelling at each other. Just before he did something stupid, Wolf murmured something Stiles couldn’t hear, but he could see Bear’s posture soften, and then he was embracing Wolf. Stiles let out a relieved sigh- he didn’t like seeing the two angry. it was unsettling. 

The next near miss was entirely his own fault - too eager to get a better view of the two, bobbing his head above the water, he peered up the shore, watching as the two shifters came down to the water's edge. He heard Wolf laugh, such a rich throaty sound. It was followed by the rough gravelly laugh of Bear. Why? Were they laughing? 

Unable to help himself, he swam closer. His tail splashed in the water, catching Wolf’s ear. 

“I don’t think we’re alone out here,” Wolf murmured. 

Bear chuckled, a lovely rumble that made Stiles’s belly feel tight. "The cove is full of life. Seals, whales.” 

“That's not what I mean, and you know it.” Wolf grumbled as Bear pulled him close. “There are eyes on us, I’m sure.” 

Stiles quietly swam back out of sight. He was not ready to be discovered just yet. Maybe the next visit. 

As Stiles swam away, he failed to notice movement in the depths, or a cunning pair of eyes follow his retreat. The Mer Alpha watching him grinned viciously – he would make this little selkie his. 

0000 

Before he had a chance to revisit the cove, Stiles was called to follow his father to the assembly and continue with the negotiations with the Mer-people. So far they’d had no success, and this was going to be their last attempt. Stiles did not trust the Mer. A party of Mer warriors had killed half his pod when he was just a pup, and the ill blood between Selkie and Mer ran deep. 

The treaty negotiations were a trap. The Mer did not want to negotiate, they just wanted slaves. Suddenly they were attacking, and Stiles barely escaped with his life, chased by a Mer Alpha. Stiles swam as fast as he could. He was relieved so see his father and some of his pod escape to the depths, they could dive deeper and faster than the Mer folk. 

Stiles’s escape was thwarted. He could not follow his father and the pod, his way blocked. He cried out as a Mer’s claws raked at his skin. Darting down, he moved as fast as he could, flippers pulling at the water and propelling him faster. He shot towards the shoreline, hoping the stormy, choppy waters would deter his pursuers. 

As Stiles swam for the surface, one of the Mers, Jackson - the one who kept giving Stiles hungry looks - swam above him, a vicious glint in his eye. 

Sharp teeth and claws were all Stiles could focus on. He darted left but the Mer was fast. Stiles slowed. He was of the Leopard seal clan, damn it, and Leopards did not run. With more bravery than he felt, he bared his teeth. No way was this damned merman getting his skin. Pushing his flippers and powerful tail down, he swam at the shocked Mer. In his seal form, Stiles easily outweighed the Merman. While not a fighter at heart, Stiles knew he had to fight back. 

His full weight collided with the stunned merman and sent him tumbling in the turbulent water. Debris and silt kicked up by the storm made it hard to see, but Stiles eyesight was far better than the Merman's. Turning to attack again, Stiles connected with his foe’s chest. Jackson let out a stream of bubbling curses and raked his clawed hand against Stiles. Reacting out of pain, Stiles slapped the Merman hard with his tail, sending Jackson rolling away unconscious. 

Stiles fled, speeding to shore, the pain from his wounds fogging his mind. All he could think was that Wolf and Bear would help him. 

** The Present **

Stiles blinked, drawing back from the memories. Looking to his left he could see Bear – no, Chris - sitting on the rocks he calls the armchair, rod in hand looking relaxed and happy. Peter – Wolf - pulled a strange instrument out of a case. At first the sounds made Stiles’s ears hurt, but soon haunting notes drifted over the beach. 

The notes soothed something in Stiles. The memories he’d stirred up faded momentarily as he listened to the notes and looked at Peters face. Wolf seemed to be lost in the music as his bow slid over the instrument, eyes closed and smiling serenely. 

He wanted to keep these images of Wolf and Bear in his head, something to remember when he left. He couldn’t stay, Stiles realized. He couldn’t risk these two remarkable men getting hurt or worse because he came here. 

Stiles let the music wash over him and he settled in his resolve. He would tell Peter and Chris his story, even the embarrassing bits - that he had been a waterborne voyeur - and hope they understood. And as soon as he was well, he’d leave. 

Peter continued to play as Stiles stared out into the bay. He could see a small pod of Beluga whales come into the cove, could hear the sounds of them playing, tempting Stiles into the water. He gave Chris a wave and stripped down, folding the clothes they had given him above the water line. Stepping into the water he felt the familiar tingle run though his skin, a homecoming. While in human form he was not as fast in the water, but he was still faster than a human, and he could hold his breath for over an hour if he needed to. 

Right now, he just wanted to swim and clear his head. He gave the men another wave and stepped into the cool water. His senses felt more alive as he got deeper, and the shore dropped off sharply. Stiles dove down deep, and dolphin swam out to the pod of whales. The low sound of greetings burbled through the water 

Breaking through the surface, Stiles found himself in the middle of the pod. Stiles made sounds close to the soft burbles of the whales, their soft whale bodies rubbing gently against him in greeting and communion. 

He could still hear the sweet sound of Peter’s music, and started to move through the water as if dancing, so caught in the dance he did not see that Peter had moved closer to the water's edge or that Chris had put his rod down to join Peter. 

Peter kept playing. The music rose and fell like the waves that washed around Stiles, the high notes making Stiles want to fly. As if sensing his thoughts one of the young Belugas dove deep then rose underneath Stiles, lifting him into the air. With a joyous whoop Stiles left himself be lifted, then gracefully flipped and dove back down to the water. 

Soon the song ended, and the whales departed. Stiles let out a sigh of contentment as he floated. Turning over he swam back to shore with slow even strokes. Chris was standing at the shore edge alongside Peter and they both watched closely as Stiles swam to shore. He felt a shiver at the intensity of their gaze on him. 

As he walked out of the surf Peter stepped forward holding a towel. Stiles smiled as Peter wrapped the sun warmed, fluffy towel around him. Peter rubbed the towel vigorously along Stiles’s arms, his skin tingled and he let his eyes close, enjoying the touch. 

“Did you enjoy your swim, sweetheart?” Peters lips lifted in a soft smile. 

Stiles smiled, and blushed when Chris gave him a barely hidden smirk. “You looked good out there, Stiles.” 

Chris gently tousled Stiles’s damp hair. Stiles fought the urge to lean into the touch. Having both men being so attentive made his heart clench. He needed to tell them the truth. 

But before he could, Peter wrapped a warm arm around his shoulders. “Come on pup, lets head home. Chris caught a couple of nice salmon and it’s my turn to cook.” 

Stiles looked at the silver skinned fish Chris held up and his mouth watered. Nodding, he let Peter help him get dressed, enjoying the feel of being looked after and pampered. He would enjoy this while it lasted. 

0o0 

Stiles sat at the kitchen table watching Peter cook and fuss. Chris skinned and gutted the fish while Peter wrinkled his nose at the fish guts and scales. “I will never ever gut a fish, the smell.” 

Chris rolled his eyes and smirked at Stiles. “I know our little Selkie shares my love of fish.”   
  
Stiles gave a broad grin at Peter’s put-upon expression as he muttered, “I like my fish sautéed and drizzled with lemon, not raw and bloody like some heathens.” 

Stiles laughed at the scowl Peter sent Chris’s way. Watching the two Stiles’s heart sunk. They were so good, so happy together. If he stayed he would just mess with their happiness, and what if Jackson found him? Mers could shift, lose their tails and walk on land, not as long as selkies could, but still long enough to hurt his Wolf and Bear. 

Steeling himself, he knew what he had to do. “I need to tell you the truth.” Stiles spoke softly and clearly. The men gaped, and the shocked look on Peters face would have been funny under normal circumstances. 

“Sweetheart, you can speak English?” 

Stiles nodded. “My mom was human; Dad called her a spark. I lived on land until I was ten, until she died.” A wave of sadness at the memory sidetracked Stiles, but he then felt the comforting presence of both men beside him. 

“Tell us sweetheart,” Chris rumbled. 

“Our pod was always migrating, attacks by hunters and Mers meant we could never settle too long in one place, but when we found this cove the pod wanted to stay...I wanted to stay.” Stiles blushed. 

“What was so special about our cove, little one?” Peter asked. 

Stiles blushed harder. “You and Chris, I...I had been watching you both for months. You both seemed so happy and in love, and I wanted that. I wanted _ you _,” Stiles whispered. 

Peter made a soft shushing sound and rested a hand gently on Stiles’s arm. Stiles plunged ahead. “Dad tried to negotiate with the Mer, but they attacked Dad, and Scott escaped I think, but the rest of the pod were caught. The Mers use us for slaves. And other things.” Stiles shuddered. 

“Oh, sweetheart. We want to help.” Peter murmured, and Chris rumbled in agreement. 

Wiping tears from his eyes, Stiles shook his head and pushed away from Peter’s soft grip. “I need to go. I can’t let them find you, hurt you, not when you’ve both been so kind, so nice to me.” 

“Stiles, wait.” Peter yelled, but Stiles slipped through the gaps and ran, grabbing his skin from where it sat folded neatly on the corner of the sofa and sprinting out the door. 

0o0 

Stiles ran until he heard the sound of waves crashing against the shore. He had come out of the forest and stood in front of an old fishing shack. A small dock jutted out into the rough water. The weather had come in and the dark clouds looked ominous. Stiles shivered. He didn’t fancy trying to swim in those waters, not with night closing in, but he didn’t want Chris and Peter to find him either. He wasn’t sure he could face them, not after his embarrassing confession. They probably hated him now. 

Cold and miserable, he looked around; the shack offered no real protection as the roof had caved in. Then he spotted a large rectangular cart. The sides and top were woven from thick rope, bound and wound together to form a large box to move fish from boat to shore. He could fit in it – just - if he shifted, and his fur would give him added warmth. 

He climbed into the damp, smelly basket and wrapped his skin around him, slowly summoning his shift. Tired and heartsick, he slowly drifted off to the sound of the waves crashing into the rocks nearby. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this Sea Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Selkie translation 
> 
> “Melaloy-re takhtad asountimon de shawan Metalkcta ligurat!” Oh Mother Tides what is this beast, be brave,
> 
> Akta gamat! Not without my permission 
> 
> “Diasmk ta-appa I'll be careful Pappa 
> 
> Atak Atak neham ehda ( rather rude Selkie curse)
> 
> Tsouk tsouk. Good Good


End file.
